For Chainlinks 068, we have Laurent David, founder and bassist of Kilter. Based in Paris and New York, Kilter’s highly experimental music exists in a space between John Coltrane, Sunn O))), and Meshuggah. The new album, Ten Billion Years, is a musical rendering of nothing less than the birth and death of our solar system. Using bass, drums, and sax, Kilter trace the journey of one water droplet as it travels and transforms through space and time. Inspired in part by John Cage’s explorations in time-stretching, the trio’s process was to record 10 minutes of music, slow it down to 25% of its original speed, then recreate the pieces from scratch at the new, glacial tempo – a process of reinterpretation and rediscovery they liken to the way in which entire new worlds are revealed when looking through a microscope.
A review in the new issue of August 2026 issue of The Wire Magazine states: "The music seems to suspend time, hovering in place like a black cloud ... a sustained low growl, halfway between jazz and noise rock or arty doom ... the roaring power of Melvins, if Buzz Osborne was a saxophonist."
1) Becoming a Listener Again
Even though I’ve always loved listening to music, somewhere along the way I developed the habit of listening like a producer: analyzing sounds, production choices, compositional systems and arrangements. After finishing a major project, I try to let go of that mindset for a while and simply become a listener again, whatever the style of music.
Last fall, I spent weeks listening to hundreds of new releases. Some of them stayed with me—not because I admired the craftsmanship, but because I genuinely wanted to hear them again. That’s a very different feeling. Here are three of them.
Caroline – Total Euphoria
Exactly the kind of song that reminds me how important time is—and how differently we perceive it depending on our musical references. The constant shifts between moments of acceleration and deceleration fascinate me. They challenge the way we experience musical time while remaining surprisingly emotional.
Laura Marling – What He Wrote
This is pure emotion to me—but never sentimentality. You can feel how strong and deep Laura Marling is as a singer. It feels as if the song comes from a place we don’t rationally understand, but instantly recognize.
Duke Dumont
Even though I’ve always considered myself an open-minded metalhead, electronic music has always interested me. Especially old-school house music from the ‘90s. I can hear that influence very clearly in Duke Dumont’s music, and it’s good to hear.
2) Walking Alone / Philosophy
I enjoy spending time alone, walking for hours while listening to philosophers. I think many people look for answers by trying to fix what’s wrong with them. Philosophy doesn’t necessarily provide answers, but it constantly offers new perspectives. Seeing how different thinkers have approached the same questions throughout history is full of lessons. It changes the way I think about society, human nature, and the role artistic creation can play.
I often find these ideas reflected in music. Meshuggah makes me think about the complexity of the world. Cattle Decapitation raises profound ethical questions about our relationship with animals. The list is endless. I can make the same connection with opera, where so many stories revolve around moral dilemmas and human tragedy. Different artistic languages, but often the same philosophical questions.
As a jazz musician, this has also changed the way I relate to jazz. I discovered much later—especially after spending time in the United States—how deeply political this music is, and how much of its history is inseparable from social struggle. For a long time I approached jazz mostly as an aesthetic language. Today, that no longer feels sufficient.
I don’t feel I have a personal struggle to express through jazz, and because of that I sometimes feel less legitimate than musicians whose lives are directly connected to that history. Yet I still love playing it. Maybe that’s precisely why philosophy fascinates me so much: it reminds me that art doesn’t always provide answers—it asks questions, creates perspectives and invites us to rethink the world.
3) Knowing My Limits
For a long time, I tried to become as complete a musician as possible. I wanted to understand orchestration, composition, production, and become the best bass player I could be. I don’t regret any of it. Every new skill changed the way I think about music.
But today, I know much better what I’m really good at—and what I’m not.
Rather than trying to become excellent at everything, I’d rather focus on what I naturally bring to a project and surround myself with people who are much better than me in other fields. I think this is the direction my next projects will take. Not because I’ve lowered my ambitions, but because I’ve become more realistic about where I can contribute the most.
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